


To Love, To Be Loved

by rosarmio



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abusive Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider, Crying, Dave Strider Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Except it's Minor and Dave is the Confused One, Fever Dreams, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I Love Karkat WTF, Karkat is Such a Sweetie, Lots of Crying, M/M, Nightmares, POV Dave Strider, Quadrant Confusion, Sickfic, That's in a Nightmare Though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosarmio/pseuds/rosarmio
Summary: Dave Strider has never been loved. Not by anyone. He is unworthy of love, and is completely unloveable.Karkat Vantas, master of love, thinks otherwise.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 61





	To Love, To Be Loved

**Author's Note:**

> this is a vent fic LMAO anyway if anyone gets on my ass ab coping with ab//se being written wrong i'll literally throw hands this is based on experience . thanks .

You don’t remember Bro being this tall, or fuck, this fast. No point in dwelling on the past though.

Dwelling on the past would probably get you killed right now, to be honest, because Bro is hot on your ass. He’s fast as fuck, and you look like a chicken with its head chopped off, running in circles around the roof, trying to avoid Bro’s blade. 

The gravel beneath you is smoking. Is it that hot? Shit, man.

A pebble, that’s all it takes to trip you. Face first onto the ground, too, lookin’ like a total loser, and your nose is surely bleeding. You flip around so you can see your surroundings.

Just as you’re about to scramble back onto your feet, a heavy shoe pushes down against your stomach. Fuck. He’s heavy. The katana’s at your throat like a fuckin’ pirate in a famous movie would do. It could maybe be homoerotic if it wasn’t your fucking brother-dad. 

Makes it hard to breathe, fuck. The foot on your ribs and the blade to your neck makes it almost impossible.

The ground is hot. It burns. 

You don’t even get to blink, the sword’s off your neck and slicing your arms as Bro twists his shoe against you, pushing you down. 

Squirming and thrashing about, you try and break loose, but he just spits on you, then he’s got you pinned and fuck.

Fuck.

The punch hits before you see it. Maybe your vision is delayed. But you know your eyes water. He doesn’t stop punching, either. 

Man, who pissed in his cereal?

Jokes are over when he lifts you by the neck and just stares at you. You choke for air, your lungs are burning, hotter than the gravel under the Texas sun, your throat scratches you, claws at you, begging for air. 

The blade’s at your neck again, but this time it doesn’t stop. The world halts, it freezes. Everything is paused. The katana rips through your neck all the way through, and Bro pulls you through it, then pushes you off, and you fall.

You expect to stop falling. But you see the apartment growing taller as you’re pushed down to the ground by gravity’s harsh force. You’re gonna die, aren’t you? 

The cement is hard when you hit it. Black light, white pain. 

“Fuck!”

That’s the first thing you hear when you wake up. It didn’t leave your mouth though, you’re gasping, frozen still in bed, eyes wide. You bet you look like a fish, gasping for air yet unable to move. 

Big grey eyes stare at you. It’s dizzy. “Ih’ts Karkrakat,” you slur. Everything is numb. Your mind is fuzzy and weird and everything is… so complex, and shit your mouth barely works.

“Dave, shit. Are you okay? Jegus, if you’re dying I’m gonna fucking cull your nookwiping ass,” he rambles, and you just drunkenly laugh. Your legs feel like jelly. Were you running?

There’s a ‘thunk, thunk’ noise from somewhere. Karkat looks over at your door, then the ceiling, and- hey why was Karkat in your room while you were slee-

Karkat puts a hand to your forehead. “Ugh, okay. You might be sick. You’re hot, or, for a human. Ignore the banging noises, I think Gamzee’s running through again.”

Sick. Eugh. You’ve never been sick. Or you don’t think you have. Maybe you were and you thought it was normal. This feels new though. You’re hot and stupid and tired and cold and hungry and nauseous. 

“Mmm… What kindsa sick?” 

He rolls his eyes. “This is probably the human fever. Which is probably the cause of your nightmare from earlier,” he tells you, then drapes a blanket over you. You didn’t realize you were shivering until then.

Fever. You don’t think you’ve had a fever before. 

Bad feeling. You have a bad feeling in your throat. You shoot up in bed, fuck, you’re gonna throw up. Karkat realizes soon enough, thank fuck, and hands you a bowl with leftover popcorn kernels. You get sick into it and the smell of it makes you throw up again. 

Karkat is looking away the whole time, plugging his cute, pointy troll ears shut. He then takes the bowl, still looking away, and sets it clear across the room.

You flop back down onto the bed. It’s tiring to sit up. Karkat leans over you, his eyebrows furrowed, and he’s frowning. “What do humans do to get better when they have the human fever?”

“Uhm… dunno, bro never wannedta hel’ me when iwuz sick.”

His head cocks, and he sits down on the bed next to you. “Your lusus never took care of you when ill?”

Shaking your head just barely is a tire, so you stick to words. “Nuh-uh. Never took care uh me for nu’n. Did’t all m’self.”

Karkat rests his hand gently on your knee, and looks down at you in concern. “Your lusus sounds like a fucking nooksucker.”

No, no Bro was… he was cool. He was cool. He had to be. Right?

“Nah, Bro ‘as cool. Da best. Sword fightin’ ‘nd teach’n me ta fight. Now I can take uh punch,” you joke, laughing, then coughing on your laughter. 

Bro was cool… right? 

“Dave, your lusus was not good. That’s not… that isn’t good, Strider.”

You didn’t think something that small would be the thing that made it hit you, but that’s what it is. Fuck. Bro was… a piece of shit…? 

Well, it doesn’t sound okay, now that you think about it, to sword fight a kid, beat up a kid, starve a kid, watch a kid shower through cameras… 

Bro was a fucking dick. That’s a weird thought. 

Like. Okay. Maybe… he shouldn’t have made you sword fight as a young kid. Or… okay… maybe at all? Maybe that was fucked up, actually. 

Oh, there is a lot more that’s fucked up now that you think about it. 

The cameras. The fucking sex puppets.

Starving you. No water to drink, unless you took a shower, which was like, once a week if you got lucky. 

“Helloooo… Meteor to Dave?” 

Your attention snaps back to Karkat. He looks very worried, shit, that’s your fault. “Dave? Are you okay?”

To be honest, you don’t know. Maybe? You’re sorta in shock. This shit doesn’t come easy. You’re just now coming to terms with the fact that your Bro was fucking shitty. Dare you say, abusive?

Did he even love you?

There are hands on your face. Your glasses are off. What. Huh. Karkat.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay,” he says, wiping at your cheeks and fuck you’re crying, aren’t you? Now that you’ve realized it, you can’t stop. You’re just sobbing and sobbing into his hand and he pulls you up and you lean your forehead against his. His hands are so warm against your cheeks.

Comfort. This is nice. Karkat is nice. You like the way he holds your head in his hands and rubs your cheek with his thumb. Troll skin is soft, despite being thick. You lean into his touch. 

Was he even your dad? He was, biologically, but can you even say he was your father? Did you ever have a father? He was just in the place of a father. Why couldn’t you have had a father, like John did? Like Karkat?

“I wanna dad, I want one, why didn’t I get a dad,” you cry, and he pulls you to him, you’re crying into his shoulder now as he rubs your back with one hand and runs the other through your hair. 

“It’s okay, I know, I’m sorry.”

How long has it been since you last cried? You don’t know. You don’t really cry. Not your thing. Bro sorta got you thinkin’ it was for pussies. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was wrong. You don’t know anymore. You don’t know anything anymore.

Everything is so different and altered and you just want stability, you wanna know. 

You’re just tired. You’re so goddamn tired. You wish you had a dad. You never had a mom and now you’re realizing you never had a dad, either. Did you do something wrong? Is that why? Were you just that horrible?

What did you do to make yourself so unworthy of love? 

Are you worthy of love?

Hell, are you even loveable?

The sobs come out louder, choked, between gasps for breath. Karkat clicks. It’s nice. You’re tired. He clicks again, this time like a melody. Clicks and purrs, like a cat. 

You wish you had a cat growing up. Cats are cute. They purr. Karkat purrs too, though. He’s purring and it’s like a song he’s singing just for you. No one ever sang you songs. Bro never sang you lullabies. But Karkat is singing a song for you.

Just for you. You feel special. You feel worthy, Karkat would never sing a song to someone who didn’t deserve it, you know that. So he’s singing you a song, and you know you’re worth that.

The purring lines up with your breathing, and helps your breath slow back to normal, even slower, deeper, like sleeping. Your eyelids are heavy. You’re scared to sleep, scared Bro might hurt you like he did in the last one, but Karkat will protect you, you know that.

To be honest, you don’t remember your dream by the time you wake up, but you feel rested, so that’s probably a good sign. You do notice, though, that you are laying down with your head on Karkat’s shoulder and an arm wrapped around him. He’s awake and notices you immediately. 

“Oh, feeling better?” he asks, and you appreciate his lack of profanities and hostility for now. Usually, you think it’s sorta cute but, right now you need something gentle. 

You nod, yawning. You’re still hung up about Bro, but it’s gonna be okay. You’ve got Karkat, he can help you.

Karkat gives a rare, soft smile, and just as you blink, he kisses your forehead and cups your face in his hands again. You know this is a quadrant thing, but you don’t care, because you need it, and maybe it’s mutual.

There’s a bit of silence as he purrs while you lean your cheeks into his hands. “Is this red or pale?” you ask, whispering, so he knows it’s genuine. 

“Doesn’t matter. Maybe both. I think it’s just love.”

Love. You let that sink in. He loves you. You’re loveable. He wouldn’t love someone who didn’t deserve it. You deserve his love, you’re worthy of it.

You think you love him too.

“I like that,” you whisper once more, and you return a kiss to his palm. It’s nice to love someone. It’s nicer to love someone who loves you, too. After a lifetime of never being loved, now you are. It’s new, it’s scary, even. But you like it.

It’s odd how just the single word, ‘love’, can make such a difference. It changes how you see yourself. No one has ever told you that they love you, and now that Karkat, the person you love, has said that he loves you, you feel like maybe that is something you deserve.

You think about love for a minute. It’s strange. It’s not a word you can describe. Just how it feels. Feels like waking up to your favorite song on the radio. Like getting an extra candy bar from the guy bagging your bandages at the store. It feels like a surprise, something nice, something that reminds you of the good.

That’s how you feel about Karkat. You never thought you could make someone feel that way about you. Maybe you can’t. Maybe everyone feels love a bit different. Karkat might describe it as the book you just can’t put down, the one you read over and over. It’s different for him. That’s okay.

You look at him in the eyes, your shades are still gone. That’s okay. You wanna say this with no covers. “I love you.” 

Maybe it’s early. Hell, you two aren’t even officially together, but you feel it, you may as well tell him now.

He grins, it’s bright and beautiful and so full of joy, and you’re so glad you told him. He pulls you in for a kiss, and you lean into it. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers, just barely pulling away. You two just lie there, holding each other, full of love. For the first time ever, you can say that you’re happy.


End file.
